The Last Christmas

December 25th, 2024. 05:17

Thank goodness Rudolph ate his carrots and helped me find my way around planet Earth. I’ve just made the last delivery, and there’s no sign of this mist lifting. What a night! Not as many mince pies and glasses of sherry as previous years, but at least Mrs Powell left out some of her homemade mince pies for me. She never fails to bake some for me despite her claiming to loathe baking. They tasted a little different this year, but at least she always cooks me some. She’ll never be on the naughty list.

That way, boys, towards the moon and we’ll soon be home. Never seen a moon quite like this one before, but it’s always the route we take to get us back to the North Pole.


December 25th, 2025

For millions of people on planet Earth, Christmas would never be the same again. Empty stockings hang over fireplaces and at the end of beds. Underneath millions of Christmas trees, floors only showed signs of fallen pine needles rather than gifts. Nobody would ever find out that the bright light that followed Father Christmas the previous year was the light that many claimed to see when they departed this world.

Mrs Powell would never have to bake mince pies ever again, although she hadn’t baked any this year anyway.

#flashfiction #fiction #christmas
Credit: Sue Vincent

Written in response to #writephoto on the blog of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

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